Red Threads
by FujikoIzu
Summary: Mikasa Ackerman lost her brother Eren four months ago. Right now, she doesn't know whether he's alive or dead, let alone anything else. She wants to get through this alone, to be the strong woman that she was when Eren was around. When the circumstances surrounding Eren's disappearance come to light, what will she do? Will she rely on her friends or try and go it alone?
1. Dreaming

Beads of sweat dropped slowly from Mikasa's forehead as she gripped at the bedcovers. She was panting, panting so hard that it felt as if her chest was caving in on her.

_Eren_...

Teal-green eyes flashed in her mind, flashed like a strip of lightning burning through the sky. His back, the image of a back disappearing into a crowd kept running through her mind, leaping in and out of her consciousness like a lightbulb flickering slowly on and off. She could hear her heart thumping in her chest, feel asthma's familiar grip tightening around her throat. Tears were falling in waterfalls down her cheeks, dripping slowly from her cheeks down to her quivering hands, making cold patches on her skin where they slowly began to evaporate.

_Eren... _she cried, pulling the bedcovers up to her burning chest. _Eren..._

This was by no means the first time that something like this had happened. Even so, the noise of the gunshots still echoed in her ears, rumbling like thunder with every breath she took. Telling herself that it was only a dream didn't seem to help; when she was sitting here like this, it seemed so real that she could barely breathe. A stream of bullets ricocheted into the sky, prompting screams of terror from people who rushed towards her like a wave, separating her from the one hand that she'd promised herself that she'd always hold on to. She could see it now, see those people, feel her desperate grip coming loose as she fought against the motion of the crowds. That day, that terrible day, was one that she knew that she'd never be able to forget.

_Hold on_... she choked, her knuckles blanching as she gripped the bedcovers in desperation. _No...I have to hold on_...

As the adrenalin of the dream began to fade away, she realised that she was rapidly running out of oxygen. Knocking her books to the floor in the half-light, she scrabbled around on the bedside table for her inhaler. Trying her best to grip it in her shaking hands, she turned the small device until she heard a click. Bringing it to her lips, she wiped her tears from her mouth, readying herself for a much-needed hit of relief.

Covers still clutched to her chest with her free hand, Mikasa buried her head in her knees. She wanted to scream, to call out his name until the agony dwelling in her chest subsided. She wanted to yell out like a broken car alarm, to tell the entire world how terrified she was. She wanted them to see, to see the bloodstain on the torn red scarf, to see the smashed and twisted case of his mobile phone. She wanted them to know, to know what she had been through, to know how much his memory burned and scraped at her mind every minute she was awake. However, she knew that there was little point in doing so. Her wounds were her wounds, her burdens her burdens. Sharing them with others would only cause further pain, pain that she couldn't expect anyone else to understand.

_Eren_... she echoed, his name resounding unpleasantly in her mind. Her tears were slowing now, the pain in her chest dulling as she listened to the sound of her clock ticking on the desk underneath the white-rimmed window. The curtains were half-open, letting a little of the dawn sunlight seep into the room. For a moment, Mikasa stared at those curtains, watching them as they billowed slightly in the morning breeze. Sometimes, she still saw him standing around, still saw memories of him echoing like broken holograms around the room. Most of the time, she'd see him by that window, leaning over her computer with an old CD in his hand. Other times, she'd see him rifling through her chest of drawers, pulling out a pair of skinny jeans. Occasionally, she'd see him sitting at the end of her bed, coffee in hand because hot chocolate was 'for babies', blue-green eyes ringed with more eyeliner than a panda with insomnia. Whether or not this was normal, she didn't know. To be honest, she didn't really want to know.

Mikasa shook her head. No. Now was not the time. Sliding her legs around to the edge of the bed, she attempted to get herself going. She didn't even need to check the clock; she knew that however long she lay in bed, she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep now. Shaking her head in an attempt to shut out the dream, she hauled herself to her feet, whipping off her pyjamas and exchanging them for a neatly folded pile of gym clothes. If she was awake, she might as well do something productive.

Springing to her feet, she pulled the bottom of her hoody down over her hard, muscular body. It had been at least two minutes since she'd taken her inhaler now, so there was nothing stopping her. The room was too stuffy, too suffocating. She needed to get out, to run until the thudding siren of his name stopped bursting through her mind. If she got it out of her system now, the rest of the day would be easy enough. Easy enough.

Grabbing her iPod from its space on her bookcase, Mikasa swung around on her door and dashed down the stairs before she could give it a second thought. One foot in front of the other, then the other, then the other, her eyes half- glazed over and glued to the road ahead. That was what she had to do. Her tears would dry, her reddened eyes turn back to their usual pale, cold selves and all would be well.

_Don't think_, she reminded herself as she clattered across the rattling balcony. _Don't think. Just run._

As she approached the stairs, Mikasa drew her headphones up through her hoody and placed them in her ears. She wasn't fussy about what she listened to now, so long as it was loud enough to drown out everything around her. The scraping noise of the rusting metal bars rattling on the concrete steps, the call of birds making their nests in the roadside trees, the roar of cars as they zoomed past - she didn't want to hear a single one of those sounds, see a single one of those familiar sights. She wanted everything to disappear, to blow in like the pollution-scented wind and dissolve into a monotone blur.

Feet pounding lightly on the tarmac pavement, Mikasa stared straight ahead, eyes still full of evaporating tears. To be honest, the music really wasn't helping today. It would be just her luck to shuffle on to 'Missing You' as her first song.

_Stop acting like you're so comfortable  
Because you and I, we're still strangers..._

2NE1. She remembered when she'd first heard one of their songs. It was after Gangnam Style had come out, when she'd wondered if all Korean pop videos were as silly as that one. As it turned out, they weren't. After that, she'd tried to get Eren to listen to them but being the stubborn boy that he was, he'd refused. Actually, if she remembered correctly, he'd even refused to listen to Gangnam Style for about six weeks. It was so like him to do that, so like him to deliberately try and rail against everything that he possibly could. At the time, it had irritated her. Now, the memory just made her feel nauseous.

S_top whining like you're a child  
Because I haven't even started yet..._

Wiping the tears from her eyes with the cuff of her sleeve, Mikasa forced herself to push forward. She was beginning to wish that she hadn't looked up the translation of that song. Then again, perhaps it was good for her to let it out now. The streets were near-silent at this time of day anyway, save for a few lone people pacing the pavements, hoods drawn up over their heads as if they were trying to blank out the entire world. It wasn't as if anyone she knew would see her. Aside from the boy next door who they had been close to back in her hometown of Shinganshina, she didn't really know anyone in Trost.

As the music flooded through her ears, Mikasa tried to make herself concentrate on other things. The brown leaves crunching crisply under her feet, the blast of chill air as she ran past a fellow jogger, the slowly changing colour of the sky above her head - anything was better than those memories. She kept her eyes on the road ahead, never allowing them to divert from her carefully planned route. As her tears began to stop, so did the world around her. Although the colours of the houses she ran past changed and their shapes mutated from flats to maisonettes and back to flats again, she didn't even notice. Her mind was on autopilot, controlling her body only just enough for her to get through her usual three mile morning course. After that would be sit ups and weights, then a very welcome hot shower. It had been the same every morning since she'd arrived in Trost, a routine that she'd never broken in the three and a half years since she'd been here. Somehow, it made her feel safe, feel as if things were still exactly the same as they had been six months ago. Even if her whole world slipped out from under her feet like sand, that part of her life would always remain constant, sitting there as something to hold on to whenever everything else seemed lost.

Step, step, step. Stairs, keys, door. Tap, water, run. Before she was even really awake, Mikasa found herself standing under the shower, hands running shampoo through her dark, chin-length hair. Days were passing more quickly now. Sometimes she'd spend the whole day on autopilot from morning until evening and find herself getting into bed with no idea what she'd actually done all day. Today would most likely be no exception to this rule. After all, there was no reason to remember. Nothing interesting seemed to happen any more.

College. It was probably time for college by now. Even though she hadn't looked at a clock all morning, she knew when it was time to leave. Picking up a loose jumper from the back of her chair, she let her arms shrink into the sleeves, watching as it slowly enveloped her silhouette. It was probably one of Eren's, though it had been in her wardrobe for so long that it might as well be hers. The jacket that she picked up on her way out of the door was one of Eren's too, though that one hadn't been hers for quite so long. It was a strange jacket, a sort of casual military job with a pair of wings patched on to the right arm. Despite that, she still liked it better than any of her own.

Wriggling into a pair of black combat boots, Mikasa took a moment to check that everything was in order. Underwear, shorts, tights, tank top, jumper, jacket, books, pens, keys, purse, phone, iPod. Something was missing. Eyes darting around from the coat hook to the door and back again, she felt her hand extend involuntarily to her neck. Ah. Of course. Her scarf.

Leaping up to the coat hooks, she snatched at a flash of red material extending out from under her only other jacket. How could she have forgotten it? Inhaling its softly perfumed smell, she wound it around her neck, fingers extending over the place where she'd repaired a tear in the fabric. Occasionally, even though she had washed it multiple times, she still thought she could feel the hardness of a bloodstain cracking along the edge of the tear. However, today, she was far too focused on simply getting out of the door to even check.

Calmly and precisely, Mikasa opened the door and locked it shut, eyes not wandering from her task until she was sure that it was properly completed. She could hear footsteps on her right, hear the noise of someone shuffling towards her, yet she refused to even look in that direction until she was good and ready.

"Mikasa," a voice greeted, a voice that had grown much deeper of late. It belonged to a young man, a man who still lacked the ability to grow a decent amount of facial hair. Although he shaved weekly to get rid of the sparse growth of blonde fluff on his upper lip, Mikasa was fairly sure that nobody would notice if he never shaved at all.

Her next-door neighbour seemed to be on good form today. He had a sweet, dreamy sort of smile on his face, as if he was still lost in some sort of imaginary world. Even though it was quite normal for him to be holed up in his room all weekend, he always looked as if he had been on some kind of epic journey come Monday morning. He'd always been a daydreamer like that. If the sky was grey and filled with clouds, in his mind it could be bluer than the ocean itself. If it rained, the rain could be a series of glittering droplets, falling in technicolor from a candy-clouded sky. Mikasa envied his ability to create these illusions, his ability to make the world seem beautiful no matter how unpleasant it may be in truth. Unfortunately, as it was for most people, those sorts of abilities were only available to her after large amounts of alcohol.

"Sleep well?" he asked, shutting his comic book and stuffing it into the front pocket of his leather satchel.

"Not especially," Mikasa replied, stuffing her hands firmly in her pockets and looking towards the ground.

"Did you have that...?" he asked, watching sadly as Mikasa nodded her head, nose and mouth firmly buried in her scarf. It was the same story, the same questions, the same routine that they went through every morning. She didn't really understand why they went through this pointless charade, this roundabout of identical questions and answers firing one after the other. However, as always, she was too tired to argue about it. Perhaps one day she'd be able to answer his question differently, be able to break the cyclical nature of those questions so that he could ask her something else. Then again, perhaps not.

As they descended the creaking steps to the floor below, her neighbour decided to break the silence. "What are you doing this weekend?" he asked, gloved hand sliding neatly down the metal railings.

Mikasa didn't even hesitate in her response. "Nothing," she replied, her voice half-muffled by the thick fabric of the scarf. "Why?"

"Wanna go see a film?" he asked, his words echoing strangely in the empty stairwell.

Frowning, Mikasa fixed her eyes on the back of his head. "What, like a date?"

"No," he replied immediately, a slight hint of laughter in his voice. "Like friends. You know. We can get popcorn."

"No thanks, Armin," Mikasa answered. "It's too expensive. Why don't we just watch a film online?"

"Aww, but that's no fun!" Armin replied, holding the door open at the bottom of the stairway. "Come on, Mikasa. At least think about it!"

Sighing, Mikasa looked down at her smiling friend. She didn't really want to disappoint him, but she really wasn't in the mood to do anything much this weekend, especially expensive things like going to the cinema. All that she wanted to do right now was curl up in a corner of her room, wrap herself up in a blanket and read from the pile of books that Armin had lent her. Truthfully, the only reason that she went into college every day was because Armin would worry about her if she didn't.

"Fairy Tail updated," Armin stated, skipping out to stand beside her. "There's some good stuff coming in the next few chapters, I think. By the way, did you watch that video I sent you? You know, the one about the fox song?"

The fox song. Ah, the fox song. Mikasa remembered watching it late on Sunday night. She usually didn't understand any of the videos that Armin sent her, so her normal response was to nod and smile politely while he went on about whatever it was that the video was supposed to be about. However, she had been able to understand this one. It was probably because it was a simple joke, one that didn't require lots of prior knowledge about TV shows that she had no interest in watching. Although it hadn't been particularly funny, she'd at least been able to understand the humour behind it, which was probably enough for a small conversation's worth of material.

"Oh, the one where it sounded like they were possessed by Satan?" Mikasa queried, raising an eyebrow at a giggling Armin. "Yeah, I got that one. It wasn't bad."

"It wasn't bad?" Armin repeated, blowing dragon-like trails of steam into the cold air in his excitement. "Jean fell over laughing!"

"Jean?" Mikasa asked, the name rolling around unfamiliarly in her mouth.

"From my History class," Armin replied, nodding his head vigorously. "Haven't I mentioned him before?"

"No..." Mikasa whistled, her eyes flicking briefly towards the sky as she tried to ascertain whether or not that name really was completely new to her. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she was sure that she'd heard it before. Then again, it couldn't be all that uncommon for someone to have that name. Come to think of it, it might have been someone on TV.

"He was from Sina," Armin reminded her, nodding his head as he searched through his memories. "He used to come into the chip shop between Sina Academy and Trost Comp sometimes. Your brother said he had a face like a horse."

Ah. Now she remembered. The boys from the private school in their cream blazers with maroon piping, talking in raised voices about skiing and whose house they were crashing at this weekend. Eren's eyes, brimming with rage, glaring at the boys as they accidentally knocked Armin over. His fists, raised at the boy he liked to call 'horse face', barely dirtying the rich boy's coat as they burst into action. The stains of ketchup mixed with blood as Mikasa slammed him against the wall, asking him what the hell he thought he was doing picking a fight with her family.

"You're talking to...him?" Mikasa growled, her hands making white-knuckled fists by her sides.

"We talked things out," Armin explained, reaching across to Mikasa's tensing wrists. "He's actually a pretty decent guy. Don't worry, Mikasa. He's changed a lot since he left the Academy."

Mikasa let her body relax a little. Taking a deep breath in to disperse her anger, she gave Armin a small, curt nod. "I'll hold you to that."

For some time afterwards, the two of them walked in silence. Mikasa still wasn't quite sure what to make of this revelation. As much as she trusted Armin, she really didn't like the fact that he was friends with someone who had previously insulted a member of her family. The only thing she knew for sure at this point was that if Jean so much as dared lay a finger on Armin, he would have hell to pay. Everything else was in the balance, dependent on whether or not he really had changed as much as Armin said. For Jean's sake and for the sake of her trust in her closest friend, Mikasa seriously hoped that he had.

Before long, the two of them found themselves turning the corner to the large, open complex that was Trost College. Although it was tucked away in an inconspicuous plot of land in the middle of a residential area, it was quite obvious that it wasn't somewhere that people were likely to be living. Standing out like glass-paned paragons in a sea of brick, the buildings flashed and glinted in the thin winter sunlight, causing anyone and everyone who passed this place to turn their heads briefly and stare in awe. Everything about it was new and clean, so clean in fact that it was considered to be the pride of the neighbourhood. Although it had only been in existence for the last ten years or so, it already accommodated more students than it really had room for. Teenagers spilled out of the bright blue science block, of the creamy-white humanities centre, of every corner of the site until you wondered how on Earth they had all managed to fit themselves in. There were students with their thick maths textbooks and copies of the Odyssey, army trainees wandering around in fatigues, cool types standing around smoking roll-ups in the car park. As the only College for miles around to offer qualifications in Japanese, it even attracted a crowd of anime fans sitting somewhere up on the roof of the library, waving at those who milled like ants down on the ground below.

"I've got English now," Armin stated, patting Mikasa's shoulder. "I'll see you just before lunch, okay?"

"Okay," Mikasa agreed, her heart sinking a little as he raced off to the cream-coloured building on their left. Taking a deep breath, she pivoted on her heels, looking up at the formidable glass tower that was the science department. Going to class was the last thing that she wanted to do today, the last thing that she ever wanted to do. However, it wasn't as if she could miss it. If she skipped her lessons, Armin would find out and he would worry about her. As it stood, he already worried far too much.

Putting one foot in front of the other, Mikasa let the world blur quietly around her. Today was just another day, just another twenty-four hours to get through. She could do it. She could do it. Even without Eren, she could do it. All that she had to do was tune out, get through the lessons and keep moving on. Even if she had nothing to look forward to, even if she no longer knew what direction she was walking in, she would keep walking, keep walking until her feet ached and bled from the pain.

She could do it.

She could do it, even without Eren.


	2. Experimentation

**This is the part where you can tell that I did Chemistry A-Level. It is also the part where you can tell how bad I was at practicals. Once, I tried to filter something and ended up dumping the whole lot down the sink by accident. True story. Anyway, after the first chapter, I figured that there needed to be some comic relief in here. Get ready for some fun with my personal favourite character, Miss Sasha Blouse :)**

-

It wasn't until she got to the chemistry lab that Mikasa noticed just how cold it was today. Then again, it always seemed cold when she had to take off her scarf. She didn't like leaving it there, curled up in a heap on the plastic-coated table, ready for anyone to claim as their own. However, as she had been told multiple times by their rather strict chemistry teacher, her scarf was a fire hazard and she had to leave it off.****

As she gazed up at the long glass burette full of clear liquid, she gave a deep sigh. Today they'd be completing titrations, an arduous and lengthy set of tasks that could probably be described as history's most boring experiment. In this experiment, you opened the tap slowly at the bottom of the glass tube full of alkaline solution, let the liquid run into the flask of acid below and wait for the chemical in the flask to change colour. It was that simple. The only skill required was a reasonable degree of control, which was something that came naturally to Mikasa anyway.****

"Okay, because we're a little short on equipment for this practical, you're going to be working in pairs today!" the teacher announced, clapping her hands together in a rather over-enthusiastic manner. "Connie Springer, Sasha Blouse, you two are banned from working together. The rest of you, pair up!"****

Two audible groans of protest came from somewhere over in the back corner of the room. Connie Springer, Sasha Blouse. For a while, Mikasa struggled to put names to faces. However, once she heard their loud, over the top voices echoing through the classroom, she began to remember who they were. Although she didn't know what they looked like and really had no interest in who they were, she was able to make a quick guess as to what kind of people they might be. After all, it was hard to forget the presence of the famous duo who'd decided that it would be a good idea to see exactly how flammable hair really was. ****

As the one she supposed might be Connie moved towards a tiny blonde girl standing in the back corner of the room, Mikasa couldn't help but stare at the one reminder that there was of the incident. She was still drawing a blank on Sasha's face but as soon as she laid eyes on the boy with the shaved head, she knew that it must be Connie. Two weeks after the famous incident, his hair was still completely burnt off.****

Allowing her mind to wander off once more, Mikasa began to set up the equipment. Clamp, burette, pipettes, flasks, all laid out in neat rows on the desk. She'd most likely be able to work alone today. Even if Sasha and Connie were no longer allowed to work together, they were probably friendly enough with the rest of the class that neither of them would want to pair up with her. She mostly worked alone in practicals these days, even when there was a shortage of equipment. As she had found out quite early on in the term, she really was better off being by herself.****

"Excuse me! May I be your partner?"****

Mikasa ignored the voice for a moment, still lost in some kind of blurry daydream about what it might be like to polish Connie's head. She arranged her flasks neatly in a row, readying her measuring instruments so that she could place exactly the right amount of liquid in each tiny flask. Three titrations was the minimum. Mikasa would do four.****

"Um...excuse me...may I be your partner?"****

Pipette in hand, Mikasa turned in the direction of the noise. There, standing right in front of her, was a rather pretty auburn-haired girl wearing a pale blue shirt and a lab coat several sizes too big for her. Smiling loosely, she placed her hands behind her back and leant forward to inspect Mikasa's precise rows of equipment. Raising her eyebrows, Mikasa noticed a rebel-style double piercing on her right ear. _Faux-rebellious double ear piercing, messy side parting, posh accent..._she thought to herself, _...aha. Sina rich girl!_

"How neat!" she gasped, poking the tip of a long glass pipette. Slowly, it rolled to the side, making a small clinking sound as it made contact with one of the flasks. Looking down from the top of the burette, Mikasa gave the girl a rather dirty look. She hadn't even given her permission to join her experiment yet and she was already managing to mess things up. Just who did this girl think she was?****

Fixing her eyes on the girl, Mikasa waited patiently for her to stop fiddling with the equipment and look at her. She thought that she knew what she was going to get here. This girl, like all of the others, would take one look at her face and run away. In fact, she'd probably be so scared that she'd never bother her again. Unfortunately for Mikasa, this was not to be. As the redhead glanced up to the stern girl on her right, she didn't seem to notice the stony look in Mikasa's eyes, the anger building up in furrows between her eyebrows. Instead, the girl simply grinned, lifted up a bottle of hydrochloric acid and swirled it around playfully in her hand.****

Looking away, Mikasa focused her attention on the experiment, hoping that she'd take the hint and leave. However, the girl didn't leave. As Mikasa started carefully filling the burette, the girl took it upon herself to start writing up the experiment. Her pen was heavily chewed and scratchy, a cheap bic biro that looked as if it had been through several world wars. As the girl wrote the date and the spaces for their names on the top of the paper, she turned back towards Mikasa, cocking her head to one side and widening her eyes like a lost puppy.****

"So..." she whistled, jamming her pen in the side of her mouth and chewing ferociously on its broken end, "...I'm Sasha Blouse. What's your name?"****

"Mikasa Ackerman," she grunted in reply, eyes focused on getting the liquid's lowest point to match the line on the pipette.****

"Cool name!" she exclaimed, pulling down a pair of goggles and snapping them over her eyes. "So, what else are you studying? You know, I think I've seen you in my maths class..."****

Eyes as sharp as sheets of steel, Mikasa turned to face her new lab partner. "Excuse me, but are you going to talk all day or are you going to help me with this practical?"****

Mouth open, Sasha stopped mid-sentence. For some time, the two of them simply stared blankly at one another, quite unsure of what was going to happen next. Mikasa didn't really know what to make of her. Why wasn't she scared? At this point, she was supposed to back down and apologise. Even now, even as she stared her down with a glare that could fell a horse, she didn't see any signs of fear on her classmate's face. It was strange, so strange that she wondered if there might be something fundamentally wrong with the girl.****

"I'm going to do both...?" the girl replied, cocking her head to one side. There was a sort of bemused look on her face, the kind of look that lay somewhere between childlike wonder and complete confusion. Mikasa was unsure of how to react to this. It was, after all, a strangely good point. Somehow, she hadn't expected her to come up with an answer like that.****

"Uh..." Mikasa faltered, forcing her attention back to the task at hand, "...well, so long as you don't mess up the experiment, then..."****

"Sweet!" Sasha beamed, grabbing the thin pipette she'd knocked out of line and plunging it straight in to a flask of hydrochloric acid. "So, Mikasa, where are you from?"****

Stretching up to empty some of the alkaline solution into the burette, Mikasa gave a small sigh. "Rosa, just down the road from here," she answered bluntly, determined to keep her side of the conversation as short as possible.****

"Really?" Sasha gasped, eyes bug-like inside her goggles. "Really? You're from Rosa? Are you serious?"****

"Yes," Mikasa replied, watching as Sasha haphazardly filled her pipette. She could see her freckled face begin to gleam, hazel eyes full of energy and questions that she didn't want to answer. Perhaps she should have lied, should have told her that she was from Central Trost. Then again, it was entirely possible that Sasha was simply the type to ask awkward questions whatever her answer might have been.****

"Were you there on the day of the shootings?" Sasha whispered, letting a pipette full of liquid splash into the cone-shaped flask.****

"Yes," Mikasa responded, bringing her flask into position and creaking the tap open at the bottom of the burette.****

"What was it like?" Sasha quizzed, her voice scarcely more than a breathy whisper.****

"I don't really remember," Mikasa stated, a bitter taste forming in her mouth as she swirled the conical flask around in one hand, controlling the tap with the other.****

"How did you get out?"****

"I ran, I think."****

"Were you scared?"****

"I don't remember."****

"Were you alone or was someone with you?"****

Mikasa froze, her hand knocking against the edge of the tap. Suddenly, a large stream of liquid began to pour out of the burette, bringing the colour change of the liquid over its tipping point so fast that Mikasa didn't even have time to react. Swearing loudly, she shut off the tap, banging the flask down on the middle of its designated spot on top of the white tile. One tiny lapse of concentration, one tiny emotional reaction and her whole experiment was ruined. Great. Just great.****

"I'm sorry..." Sasha whimpered, scraping the ruined experiment out of the way and replacing it with a fresh flask of clear liquid. The smell of smoke, blood and charred flesh began to fill Mikasa's nostrils, a peculiar mixture of scents that always sprung to mind whenever she remembered that day. She began to feel nauseous, to feel her concentration waver. Despite this, she refused to give up control of the experiment. Through the shouts that echoed in her mind and the memory of smoke that prickled in her throat, Mikasa kept her hand steady on the tap and her mind on the task, refusing to let those memories get the better of her.****

"Don't worry about it," Mikasa muttered, diverting every single part of her mind to focus on the titration. She felt her hand shaking around the tap, felt her heart racing as Sasha's blunt questions unsettled her previously calm mindset. She wanted to look up and shake her fist at the sky, cursing whatever God had put this in his plan for today. There were twenty in their class at least. Sasha could have chosen a lab partner from at least ten other people, yet she'd just had to go and bother the one person who really didn't want to be bothered at all. Sod's Law. That's what it was called.****

For some time after that, Sasha didn't say a word. Frowning in concentration, she milled around Mikasa, occasionally glancing across to the pile of bags on the other side of the classroom. Surprisingly, even when she was silent, she was still quite a distracting person to be around. Somehow, Mikasa couldn't help glancing across at her, watching her in an attempt to read her next move. Everything about her seemed to be slightly off-balance, slightly unexpected, just a little less than ordinary. The way she swayed from toe to heel yet still never seemed as if she'd fall, the messy yet strangely accurate way in which she filled the conical flasks, the way her lopsided ponytail bobbed as she walked; this girl was definitely not of this world. Although at first glance she appeared to be a wealthy Sina girl in head-to-toe Jack Wills and Ralph Lauren, Mikasa got the feeling that there was a lot more to her than that.****

As the minutes of the lesson began to tick by, the two of them continued the practical in silence. Mikasa wondered whether or not she should apologise to Sasha for overreacting. Then again, everyone in Trost knew that the Rosa shootings were a sensitive topic. Even if she was from one of the richer areas, she should still know that it wasn't a good idea to ask too many questions about it. Mikasa wasn't the only one who had lost someone that day, after all.****

Filling her role in this experiment with monotonous concentration, Mikasa let her mind drift off for the second time today. She began to daydream, to imagine a happy world where things had gone exactly to plan. The sky was brighter in that world, brightened by the sound of her brother's grumpy little voice. She'd be taking turns with Eren, teaching him the correct way of completing a titration and helping him to raise his usual C grades to As and Bs. They'd go for lunch together with Armin and sit on the edge of the brick wall by the sports field, being the three happy misfits that they had always been. In two years, they'd get their A-Levels and go to university together, just as they had planned. In that world, they'd always have a clear path, always know what step that they were going to take next. There'd be none of this fogginess clouding her mind, none of this anger in her heart, none of this indescribable emptiness that weighted down every movement that she made. In that world, the future was theirs.****

Unfortunately, Mikasa couldn't sustain this illusion for long. Within a few short minutes, she felt the image of that bright and happy world shatter around her, breaking like glass to reveal the reality of her life. Sasha was grinning at her again, though she didn't quite understand why. She could only half-see her face now, only half-see the grey shades of the dull room unfolding in front of her. She wished that she could see nothing, that the grinning face of the girl next to her was simply a figment of her imagination. However, no matter how much she tried to pretend that this was a dream, she knew that she was trapped in this reality. How someone could be so happy in a lifeless world such as this one, she didn't understand.****

"Hey..." Sasha whispered, sidling up to her lab partner so suddenly that it almost made her jump, "...would you like to get baked after class?"****

Mikasa paused for a moment, wondering if she'd heard her correctly. Baked? Had she really just asked her that sort of question out in the open? Well, that explained the personality, she supposed. She should really have guessed. The swaying, the messiness, the constant grinning - it all made sense now. Sasha was in her own world, her own shimmering world filled with anything and everything that she had ever wanted. No wonder she looked so happy. The poor thing was probably completely out of it.****

"No, thank you," Mikasa declined, turning her nose up in a slightly haughty manner. "I don't like to abuse my body."****

Sasha frowned for a moment, her nose wrinkling as she tried to make sense of Mikasa's statement. _Baked_... Mikasa saw her say under her breath. Mikasa began to become confused. Baked only had one meaning in that context, as far as she knew. She'd never heard it used outside that context before. Was it possible that Sasha was already so stoned that she couldn't remember what she had just said?****

"Oh!" she gasped, giggles rising from her throat like bubbles in a fizzy drink. "Oh, you thought I meant...? Oh my gosh, that's so funny! Me, getting high? That's hilarious! Oh my gosh, I'm imagining it right now! Mikasa, you're brilliant!"****

As Sasha descended into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, Mikasa tried to make sense of why she was behaving this way. What the hell was this girl on about? One minute she was saying that wanted to get baked, the next minute she was talking as if she'd never taken drugs in her entire life. What on Earth was going on in this girl's head?****

"Haha! Oh my gosh, Mikasa! I totally didn't mean drugs!" Sasha squealed, her voice loud enough that everyone in the classroom was beginning to turn around and giggle alongside her. "I meant baked, like baked potato! You know, get a potato, put it in the microwave, pierce a few holes in it, get some ketchup..."****

As Sasha's mouth began to water at the thought of a steaming baked potato, a lightbulb went off in Mikasa's mind. Food. She was talking about food. Getting baked. Baked potatoes. Seriously, what planet did this girl live on?****

"...anyway, do you want to get one?" Sasha asked, taking a finished flask from Mikasa's frozen hand and replacing it with a fresh one. "I have like, five in my bag. You can have one if you want. I've got mayo, ketchup, Worcester sauce..."****

As Sasha listed off the multiple condiments that she had hiding somewhere in her bag, Mikasa began to wonder if she really had any way of backing out of this. She was beginning to think that it might be easier if she just went along with whatever it was that the girl wanted, followed her on whatever strange journey that she chose to embark on. Baked potatoes for lunch. Well, it wasn't the worst idea that she'd heard all day.****

"Sure," Mikasa replied, lining up the finished titrations like tiny soldiers in a row. As tiring as it would be to hang around with Sasha all lunch time, she was sure that it would be equally tiring to try and wriggle herself out of the situation. If she said that she had to meet Armin, she'd probably insist on meeting him and that would definitely provoke a whole raft of questions that she couldn't be bothered to answer. If she said that she had something better to do, then she'd probably ask what it was. As much as Mikasa liked to avoid questions, she didn't like to avoid them by outright lying.****

"Awesome!" Sasha grinned, pushing an indicator-stained sheet of paper across the table. "Here. I made a copy for you. I think we did pretty well. Everything seems to be in the right range. You're much better at practicals than Connie is!"****

_No shit_... Mikasa thought, snorting in amusement as she inserted the stained sheet into her otherwise perfect folder. She was better at practicals than Connie Springer, the kid who set his own hair on fire. Definitely the revelation of the century.****

"Would you like to get your things?" Sasha asked, rubbing the goggle marks on her face and shaking off her lab coat. As it turned out, she was a pretty well-developed girl underneath the baggy coverup. For a moment, Mikasa wondered whether she might be storing potatoes in her shirt as well as her bag. However, she quickly dismissed this thought. Nobody, not even the girl who had convinced her friend to set his own hair on fire for the purpose of science, was strange enough to use their bra as a potato holder.****

Silently, Mikasa walked over to the table and wrapped her scarf around her neck. Breathing in its smell as she gathered her possessions, she began to feel a little safer. Yes. She could do this. She could get through this lunchtime. She could get through this lunchtime, the rest of this day, the rest of this year.****

"Nice jacket!" Sasha smiled, flinging a camel-coloured coat over her shoulders and completing her expensive-looking outfit with an oddly ratty old shoulder bag. ****

"Thanks," Mikasa replied, following the girl as she slid out of the classroom. The corridors were narrow here but luckily, they were mostly empty at this time of day. Practical lessons were one of the few types of lessons that you could get out of early and it seemed that today, they were taking full advantage of this. As they walked quickly down the cold corridors, Mikasa heard a small, thin sound echo through the air. It appeared that Sasha was humming a tune now, a tune that she was sure she'd heard before. Out of interest, she started to try and fill in the missing lyrics, fiddling with the end of her scarf as she mouthed a series of words under her breath.****

_She's the one, she'll always be there,  
She took my hand and I made it, I swear..._

Yes. This one. Mikasa knew this one. It was an old song, the sort of old song that Eren would listen to when he was in one of his rare good moods, yet she knew exactly what it was within a few lines of her beginning the song. Around her, she half-saw the walls of the corridor crumble and fall, the world around her opening up into one of her best-loved memories. There she was, holding her brother's hand, fedora on her head and feet so light on the ground she thought she might take off at any second.****

_Because I fell in love with the girl at the rock show,  
She said 'What?' And I told her that I didn't know,  
She's so cool, gonna sneak in through her window..._

She could feel her favourite black and white striped T-Shirt slipping off her shoulder, the feeling of her newly cut hair swishing around her as they danced. The two of them came together and broke apart, screaming the words at one another, feet soft against the tufted carpet. Eren was happy, happy enough that he was actually wearing a colour other than black for once. Rock hands in the air, they sprang about the room, crashing into the bed and whirling around on her swivel chair as the song played on. Eren leapt on the bed and began to play air guitar, leaping off and attempting a power slide at the foot of the bed. She could feel the laughter building up in her chest irrepressibly until she could no longer sing properly, the kind of unstoppable laughter that could light up an entire room in a mere fraction of a second.****

_Everything's better when she's around,  
I can't wait until her parents get out of town,  
I fell in love with the girl at the rock show!_

There it was, the final chord, the final slide. Sasha had stopped singing it now and had moved on to another tune, one that Mikasa was not at all familiar with. She wanted to stay in those memories, to play that song and that moment on repeat until time began to come to an end. However, it was not to be. As always, she had to return to the painful reality, the painful reality in which she would never have another moment like that.****

"But your booty don't need explainin'..." Sasha muttered, her hips swaying from side to side as she walked. Suddenly, she stopped in front of a small open door, motioning to Mikasa that this was the place they'd be stopping in. Reluctantly, Mikasa followed her into the room, the smell of coffee and microwave meals dissolving slowly into her nostrils.****

"It's the staff kitchen," Sasha explained, dumping her bag onto the side and rooting through it for her missing food. "They let me use it. Have a potato," she smiled, throwing Mikasa a particularly knobbly-looking example.****

Mikasa stared at the potato for a moment, not quite sure what to make of it. It was long and ovalish in shape, completely different to any type of potato that she'd seen before. It wasn't anywhere near as dirty as she thought, either - in fact, it looked as if it came straight out of a supermarket packet. Nevertheless, she decided that it might be a good idea to wash it.****

"I'll cook it for you. You might want to get something to hold it in..." Sasha offered, running her own one under the tap and poking holes in it with a nearby fork. "I'll make you a paper holder. Have you got gloves?"****

"I think so," Mikasa replied.****

"Good!" Sasha smiled, placing both of the potatoes into the microwave and pressing the start button. "I fell in love...la la la la la la la..." ****

As Sasha began humming again, Mikasa let herself relax. Somehow, the combination of cooking potatoes and off-key singing calmed her, made her feel a little less on edge. If such a thing existed any more, being here with this crazy potato girl was almost like being at home. Memories opened like floods, floods that drowned all concepts of reality and stopped the world for just a moment. It was almost as if she was standing there once again, standing in that hallway, listening to the sounds of Eren's music and breathing in the scent of cooking chips from the kitchen. Yes. That was the best way of describing it. It was almost like home.****

It was almost like home.


	3. Cinema

In the kitchen of Armin's tiny flat, Mikasa leant back on a chair, scarf wrapped neatly around her neck. The oven was rattling slightly where the door had come loose, letting a little of its heat out into the room. For some reason, she had a real craving for baked potatoes now, white sweet potatoes just like the one she had eaten with that strange girl a few days ago. She'd started off wanting to cook them in her own flat but as usual, Armin had knocked on her door just before she started cooking and insisted that they eat together. As a result, she'd ended up at Armin's as she almost always did on a Friday night, feet up on the table and back against the chipped old radiator.****

That strange girl. She'd been on her mind ever since that practical. Although they hadn't spoken again since, she'd wave at her in passing now, occasionally looking over at her in the middle of class when she thought Mikasa wasn't looking. As it turned out, she wasn't only in her Chemistry class - the two of them also had Statistics 1 together on a Thursday afternoon and Core 1 on Friday mornings. Besides Connie, she didn't seem to have a lot of close friends but since she was the sort of girl who was friendly with everyone, it didn't seem as if she really minded. She couldn't explain why it was, yet she felt comfortable around the girl, comfortable enough that she didn't particularly mind nodding back in return when one of Sasha's cheery waves fluttered her way.****

"Mikasa?" Armin asked, appearing around from the corner. He was wearing a fair isle cardigan and checked trousers, an odd combination that sat messily on his tiny frame. "How long are you supposed to cook the potatoes for?"****

"Don't know," she answered, looking up at her friend. "About thirty-five minutes, I think. Why?"****

"Thirty-five minutes. Okay," Armin replied, pulling his phone out of the pocket of his cardigan. "Hey, Mikasa, would you be okay if a couple of friends of mine came here tonight?"****

Mikasa swung forward on her chair, slamming her feet on the floor. Friends? She wasn't aware that Armin had any other friends. As far as she knew, he was a geek, a misfit, someone that popularity didn't exactly come easily to. Then again, Trost College was well known for its geek population, so it was entirely possible that he'd managed to get himself a group of friends. Mikasa began to feel a little adrift, as if she'd been out of the country for a long time and hadn't quite adjusted to being back. Who were these friends? Wait. He'd mentioned one the other day. What was his name again? John? No, not John. It was the guy she'd met in the chip shop. Jean. That was it. Jean.****

Turning to face Armin, Mikasa brushed her hair from her eyes. "How many of them are coming?"****

"Just one, but he's bringing someone else with him," Armin replied. "It's Jean and his sort-of cousin. I haven't met her, but I've heard she's really nice. Is that okay, Mikasa? Sorry that I didn't ask. If it's not okay, I'll tell them not to come, but..."****

"It's fine," Mikasa insisted, turning back towards the oven and placing her elbows squarely on her knees. There was a strange feeling turning around in her stomach, an odd, acidic feeling that she didn't quite feel comfortable with. Maybe she should go home and lie down on her own, put some music on. Then again, if she did that, she'd make Armin worry. No, she had to stay. Even if she had no interest in meeting Armin's friends, even if she would rather that it was just the two of them here tonight, she had to put on a brave face for her friend's sake. ****

"Great!" Armin smiled, tapping over to the oven to inspect the slices of potato that were cooking in the oven. "These are looking really good. Where did you get the idea for this, Mikasa?"****

"Some girl in my Chemistry class," she responded, burying her face deep within her scarf and sinking further into the chair.****

"Oh," the blonde boy replied, pulling his beanie down over his head and giving the girl one of his trademark goofy smiles. Looking up at him, Mikasa reached across to a strand of hair hanging down from the old black hat.****

"Your hair's getting long," she stated, twisting it around her finger briefly before letting it fall back into place.****

"I know," he smiled, looking away sheepishly from her intense gaze. Letting out a small snort of laughter, Armin ran his hand across his upper lip, his face reddening slightly as Mikasa began to mess with his hair again.****

"You're a mess, Armin," she sighed, pulling the hat off of his head and ruffling through his blonde mop of hair. "Do you even own a hairbrush?"****

"Not really..." he admitted, batting her hands away and snatching his beanie back, pulling it down firmly over his hair.****

"You're supposed to brush it when it gets that long, you know..." she sighed, flicking her finger against the spot where the tips of his hair touched his jawline.****

"I know, I know..." he sighed, reaching across to touch the top of Mikasa's own tangled mop of hair. "You seem better today," he smiled, ruffling his fingers through her fringe.****

Mikasa fell silent, her vision becoming little more than a bright red blur as she looked directly into her scarf. What did he mean by that? What was wrong with her before? Questions began to race through her mind, questions that she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to hear the answers to. She found herself shrinking away from Armin's touch, shaking his fingers out of her hair. She wanted to be alone again, to go back to her flat and hide in the corner of her room until the uneasy feeling disappeared. She wanted to envelop herself in music, to wrap herself in an old hoodie of Eren's and recover for a while, recover until she was ready to face Armin again. However, she knew that wasn't an option right now. She'd already agreed to meeting Armin's friends, to joining in with the group. She'd have to wait until later to make her escape, until Armin's friends had long gone home and the washing up was drying on the side. It might be hours until she could leave but she would endure it. She had to.****

Suddenly, right on cue, the noise of Armin's dodgy broken doorbell rang crookedly through the house. "I'll get it," he offered, patting Mikasa's head as he rose to his feet. Soon, the noise of two very excited voices began to fill the area, two voices that both sounded oddly familiar. The deep one, as far as she could remember, was almost certainly Jean. Both of them had upper-class accents, accents that were unmistakably associated with the uphill Sina region. However, one of them was clearly not quite as posh as the other - in fact, next to Jean's distinctive Sina drawl, it almost sounded fake.****

"You brought beer!"****

"Duh, Armin. What's a movie night without it?"****

"What movie are we watching?"****

"Don't know yet. I thought we could vote on it."****

"Sounds like a plan. Hey, is your neighbour here yet?"****

"Yeah, she is. She's in the kitchen."****

"Awesome! Can we meet her?"****

"Sure, just go through the door on your left."****

As the rattle of bags began to sound in the hallway, Mikasa found herself unable to look at the door. She really wasn't looking forward to seeing Jean again. The memory of their meeting was far too clear in her mind for her to want to face him now. Although she was aware that she had to pretend to like him for Armin's sake, she knew that if he put one single toe over the line, she wouldn't hesitate to give him what was coming to him.****

"Wow..."****

"Jean, what's...oh! Mikasa, is that you?"****

Raising her eyebrows in surprise, Mikasa turned to face the door. There, standing in the doorway like a startled meerkat, was the girl from her chemistry class. Her shirt may have changed colour and she might be wearing a little more makeup than she'd been wearing earlier but it was definitely her. Sasha Blouse, the girl who'd given her a baked potato on a complete whim, was standing in Armin's doorway right behind the boy she vaguely recognised as Jean. Mikasa couldn't quite believe it.****

"You know this girl?" Jean gasped, pointing an accusatory finger at Mikasa. "Sasha, you never told me that you had...friends like that!"****

"We have Chemistry together," Mikasa snapped, looking coldly at Jean. He was exactly as she'd remembered him. Slim, broad shoulders, long legs, average height. Aside from his interesting two-tone hair cut, he looked like pretty much every other rich boy that she'd ever met. As she carefully inspected his pink-tinged face, she noticed that he no longer looked quite so much like a horse. Although a comparison could still be made between them, it was a far looser comparison these days compared to when they met in the chip shop. Somehow, she felt slightly cheated by this, a little irritated that Jean's appearance had improved rather than deteriorated with age.****

"Jean, you're blocking the doorway!" Sasha whined, pushing her cousin aside as she swung into the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge. She was carrying rather a large crate of Budweiser, one that Mikasa was a little surprised that she'd managed to get away with buying. Ducking down, she ripped open the top of the crate and pulled out a beer, setting it down on the table in front of Mikasa.****

"For you," she grinned, pulling one out for herself and grabbing a set of keys from the back pocket of her jeans. "You do drink, right?"****

Mikasa gulped. Drink. Well, it wasn't as if she didn't drink. She could remember drinking before with Armin and Eren, stealing a half-finished bottle of whiskey from their careworker's office and sharing it out between them just to see what it tasted like. It had been unpleasantly bitter, yet the calm, relaxed feeling that she'd felt after drinking the disgusting liquid had been more than worth a few mouthfuls of pain. Although she was curious as to what the drink might taste like, she didn't know if she really wanted to drink tonight. It had been quite some time since that day and it being the only time that she'd actually had any significant amount of alcohol, she didn't have a lot to go on in terms of what she was like after she'd been drinking.****

"Yes," she replied hesitantly, deciding that she didn't want to appear abnormal in front of Armin's friends. Although she didn't really care what they thought of her per se, she did care what they thought of her friend. Whether she really wanted to or not, it seemed that she would be drinking tonight.****

Opening the top of the bottle with the edge of Sasha's pink, star-shaped keyring, Mikasa wasted no time in getting started. Placing the cold glass neatly on her lips, she tipped her head back and began to suck the liquid from the bottle, intent on getting a good first mouthful in before she started having to make conversation.****

"Woah...badass..." Jean breathed, his voice a low whisper against the fizzing sound of opening bottles. Swallowing her mouthful, Mikasa exhaled heavily, wiping her mouth. Raising her eyebrows, she looked across to the small bottle, surprised that she had already drained around half of its volume. This stuff was far more drinkable than the cheap whiskey she'd downed before. Actually, it was drinkable enough that she might even choose to drink it for the taste alone.****

Glancing towards where she supposed the others might be, Mikasa found herself greeted by a trio of open-mouthed faces. Sasha, Jean and Armin were all staring straight at her, their eyes flicking from the bottle to her mouth and back again. Directing her attention towards Armin, she raised her eyebrows, resting her hand under her chin as if to say 'What did I do this time?'.****

"Mikasa..." Armin gasped, taking a short sip of his own drink. "I didn't know that you could do that!"****

Frowning, Mikasa stared directly at her friend, swirling the yellow-brown alcohol around in its bottle. "Yes, you did," she replied curtly, "when we stole the whiskey from Ceri's office, I finished my share of it right away. You couldn't do it, so I had to mix yours with coffee. Don't you remember that?"****

Sasha let out a small snort of amusement, almost choking on her mouthful of beer. Wrinkling his nose, Armin began to blush, his face reddening to roughly the colour of a ripe strawberry. Mikasa noticed that his eyes were sliding across to Jean at this point, as if he expected the boy to say something. However, Jean was already too out of it to do anything of the sort. A whole two minutes after Sasha had started getting herself settled in, Jean was still standing motionless in the doorway, plastic bag in hand, eyes fixed firmly on Mikasa's left shoe. Bottle placed neatly against her lips, Mikasa frowned at him, trying to make sense of why he hadn't moved yet. His face was a little flushed along the cheekbones and his breathing was slightly too fast for a healthy person's, so it was possible that he might be suffering from some kind of fever.****

"Armin," Mikasa said, raising her finger and pointing at Jean. "Is he sick or something?"****

This statement provoked another giggle from Sasha. "He's not sick," she snorted, holding her hand up and beckoning for him to join her. "Jean, get over here and introduce yourself properly!"****

The red patches along his cheeks flaring up, Jean made his way over to his sort-of cousin. "Jean Kirstein," he announced, stretching out his hand in greeting.****

As Mikasa shook his hand, she noticed that he couldn't quite look her in the eye. Was it possible that he was afraid of her? It was y certainly possible that he might be. After all, she'd never seen the Sina boys in the chip shop after that day. It wasn't as if you saw all that many obviously half-asian girls in the Trost area either. Perhaps she should apologise to clear the air.****

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he finished politely, shuffling away to stand in between Sasha and Armin. Ah. It appeared that he was playing that game. Seeing as their first meeting had been on incredibly unfavourable terms, Mikasa decided that she would play along. Starting afresh in this way was definitely better than raking over old ground, after all. Even if Jean still looked a little nervous around her and she was still slightly suspicious of him, she recognised that he was at least making attempts to move on.****

"So..." Armin grinned, clapping his hands together. "I have a selection of films that we can vote on...I was thinking that maybe we could start with one of my favourites..."****

"No!" Jean protested immediately, flicking his bottle cap off the side of the kitchen counter. "We are not watching any of your weird Japanese shit, Armin."****

"It is not weird Japanese shit!" Armin protested, nearly stamping his foot in irritation. "It's a beautiful love story!"****

"Yeah, between a ten year old girl and Cthulhu," Jean snorted, taking another swig from his beer. "Seriously, Armin, can't we just watch White Chicks or something?"****

"Ohh! I haven't seen that film!" Sasha piped up, waving her hand in the air as if she was in the middle of a classroom. "Can we watch it, Armin?"****

"Erm...I...guess..." Armin stammered, twiddling his fingers nervously around the top of the beer bottle. "I'm not sure if I can download it in time, though...we might have to watch something else first and..."****

With a sigh, Jean reached into his plastic bag and pulled out the required DVD. At the same time, Armin's phone began to vibrate loudly, an indication that the potatoes had finished cooking. As he pulled the tray out of the oven and pronounced them done, Mikasa could see Sasha's eyes darting excitedly between equally exciting options. Potatoes, film, potatoes, film, potatoes - she just couldn't make up her mind as to which one was the better of the two. Eventually, after much deliberation, Sasha opted for the tray of potatoes. Descending like a famished hawk on a lake full of delicious fish, she swooped in and picked a slice of potato from the tray, popping it into her mouth with a satisfied moan.****

"So...good..." she sighed, chewing slowly on the wedge of potato as if she was savouring every single bite.****

"I'll set up," Jean offered, swinging past the table so that he was standing in the doorway once more. "Armin, where's your TV?"****

"Straight ahead!" Armin replied, trying his best to ward off the marauding fingers of a hungry Sasha as he tipped the potato slices into a bowl. "Mikasa, would you take those through with Sasha? I'll come through with the popcorn in a minute."****

Nodding, she darted over to rescue the hot potatoes before they all disappeared into the bottomless pit that was Sasha's stomach. Walking over to the fridge, Sasha decided to grab the beer and follow after her, her head invisible behind the large cardboard box. Silently, Mikasa tiptoed through to Armin's bedroom, her eyes half-closed as she began to lose herself in a memory. The image of a big blanket flashed into her mind, a big purple blanket with the same colour and smell as her favourite Quality Street sweet. She was in the middle this time, popcorn in her lap and a boy either side of her. Eren's hand was in the popcorn as usual, grabbing frantic handfuls and stuffing them into his mouth as the movie reached its climatic point. Armin, on the other hand, had his full attention on the movie. She could see him now, his eyes wide and round like endless lakes as a cartoon girl and boy floated across the sky. When Eren made sick noises at the romantic parts, Mikasa gave him a rap on the head, chiding him for spoiling Armin's enjoyment of the film. It would always provoke an argument between them, yet she never let up on him. Watching films with the two of them could be annoying but no matter how much the experience irritated her, she couldn't deny that it was always hilarious.****

As she settled into the heap of beanbag chairs, positioning herself as far away from Jean as possible, Mikasa began to wonder what it would be like to watch a film as a four. Somehow, she didn't think that it would go down well if she told them off for talking or singing along to the film's music. Then again, perhaps things would improve after a few beers. Jean, she had noticed, was already on his second despite having started after everyone else. Looking at the glass bottle in her hand, Mikasa decided to follow his example.****

"These are so good..." Sasha grinned, her mouth full of half-masticated potato. "They taste like my mum's! Where did you get the recipe for these, Mikasa?"****

"I didn't," Mikasa replied, quickly gulping down the rest of her beer. "I just cut them up and put them in the oven with some herbs and stuff. It's not really all that hard."****

"Oh?" Sasha exclaimed, cocking her head to one side. "Well, that sounds easy! Hey, Jean, try one of these!"****

Snatching the bowl from Mikasa's hands, Sasha shoved the pile of herb-coated wedges right under Jean's nose. Raising his eyebrows as the adverts began to roll, Jean took a slice from the top of the pile and bit into it, releasing a large burst of steam. For a moment, he considered its taste, frowning heavily as he rolled it around in his mouth. As Sasha watched him eagerly, Mikasa decided that it was time for her to try one too.****

"I..." Jean considered, washing the food down with a swig of beer, "...like it. Mikasa, these are really very good! Did you cook them yourself?"****

"Mmmh," Mikasa mumbled, nodding her head as she bit into a particularly crispy wedge. As she let the taste of garlic and rosemary flood her mouth, she began to see what the others were so excited about. She couldn't remember the last time that food had tasted this good. In fact, she couldn't remember food ever tasting this good. Even though she'd only done what she normally did, even though she'd only added herbs that she'd added a hundred times before, she seemed to be able to taste them so much more keenly than usual.****

"Ah, this is the best..." Sasha sighed, lying back on the beanbags so heavily that she almost took the others with her. Settling down in the cushions, she began to close her eyes, evidently intent on getting some sleep in before the film started.****

Smiling sheepishly, Jean turned towards Mikasa, bending his knee and placing his forearm lightly on his leg. "So, Mikasa. How do you know Armin?"****

That was an easy enough question to answer. "We've been friends since we were kids."****

"Really?" Jean enquired, cocking his chin up at the girl. "So, you're from Shinganshina then?"****

Mikasa froze. Shinganshina. How did he know about Shinganshina? He shouldn't know about Shinganshina. Wait. Just how close were Armin and this boy? She didn't like it. She didn't like it one bit.****

"How did you know about that?" Mikasa growled, her grip tightening around the bottle in her left hand.****

"There was this time in History..." Jean began, a strange, conflicted look developing across his face. "The teacher showed us this video about the...well, you know, the..."****

"...the fires," Mikasa finished, every muscle in her body tensing up as the image of fast-burning flames began to flash up in her mind. "He probably freaked out, right?"****

"Yeah," Jean confirmed, his voice dropping sadly at the end of the word. He looked a little concerned at this, perhaps a little more concerned than she really expected him to be. Reaching forward into the box and pulling out another beer, Mikasa adjusted her seating position to match that of Jean's.****

"You gotta watch him around that stuff," Mikasa stared, swirling the yellow-brown liquid around in the bottle. "He's okay to talk about it but if he sees any of the stuff that happened on TV..."****

"I got you," Jean nodded, letting out a small sigh.****

Silently, the three of them watched the starting menu roll on repeat, all of them living in their own little worlds. By the time Armin entered the room and sat beside Mikasa, she was so deep in thought that she barely noticed him arrive.****

"Did someone die in here?" he asked jokingly, reaching for the remote and handing the bowl of popcorn to Mikasa. As the smell of fresh food filled the air once again, Sasha jerked upwards from her sleeping spot, shuffling back so that her hip was touching Mikasa's.****

"Nope! I was just daydreaming!" Sasha replied, sticking her hand energetically into the bowl of popcorn. "Hey, Jean, start the movie already!"****

"Okay, okay," Jean sighed, catching the remote from Armin and hitting the play button.****

As the opening credits began to roll, Mikasa looked across to the one person she'd known the longest. She knew what the score was now, knew what she had to do to keep him in her life. If he'd told Jean about Shinganshina, then he must be a pretty special friend to him. No matter what she thought of him, she had to keep those thoughts to herself. As she had always done before, she needed to trust Armin's judgement, trust these friends of his and treat them as if they were her own. Even though she'd far rather be at home by herself than be jammed in a tiny room with two virtual strangers, she knew that she had to do this.****

For Armin, she had to try her best.


	4. Morning

**As a heads-up to you guys (in case you didn't guess already), this is set in Britain, where it is actually fairly difficult to get hold of guns. It's not as if people don't have them, but it's very rare to own one. People tend to borrow them rather than own them and it's not even that common to do that. Over here, it's only really people with dodgy connections, armed police and farmers that have access to them.**

-

_...in the Easternmost of the two districts bordering on Shinganshina..._

...the Maria Titans arrived at the scene en masse, armed with knives, bats and what appeared to be BB guns...

Mikasa jolted awake, breaths ragged in the cold morning air. Titans. Titans. Did she just hear...?****

"After almost six months of inactivity outside of their Shinganshina territory, the police were beginning to wonder whether the Maria Titans were ever coming back. However, as last night's activities clearly demonstrated, the Titans aren't beaten yet."****

Placing her hand onto her heart, Mikasa made a fist over the left hand side of her chest. It was just the news. Just the news. Although it was bad news, it was just the news. Breathing deeply to slow the pace of her rapidly beating heart, she sat up, flicking the hair out of her eyes so that she could see what was going on.****

Shaky footage was beginning to play on the screen of the flickering TV. Sirens flashed off in red and blue, the blur of a police car sweeping rapidly in front of the camera as the film drew on. Shadows of several hooded figures leapt in the ensuing mess, some of them carrying small pistols while others were armed with simpler weapons such as knives and baseball bats. Although their faces were mostly obscured by makeshift masks, she was able to see a few glimpses of hair and skin here and there. In the ensuing destruction, she could make out a little, light-skinned one flanked by two taller ones. She was fairly sure that the little one must be a girl but in the shell of their shapeless hoodies and baggy trousers, it was quite difficult to tell.****

"This footage was taken earlier today in the Maria Heath area, just North-East of their Shinganshina base. Some have speculated that they may have been intercepted while heading for the Rosa area, home of the Recon Corps. Others are sure that they were also intending to attack the neighbouring Maria Westfields area, an area which has shown great resistance against the gang in the past few months. However, many are certain that they were simply attempting to assert their dominance in the area and bring it under control. Residents of the area had this to say..."****

As the residents began to broadcast their disgust at the situation, Mikasa felt herself grow a little light-headed. She felt strange, disorientated. The TV was on. The TV was on and she'd been asleep. She didn't do that. She didn't fall asleep in front of the TV. Come to think of it, she didn't usually sleep this well either.****

"Sleep well?"****

Turning around sharply, Mikasa's eyes met with those of her oldest friend. He looked happy, satisfied somehow, as if he didn't have a thing to worry about in the entire world. There were milk splashes all over his chin from the cereal he was crunching away at, running down to his jaw as translucent teardrops. Somehow, she was a little surprised to see him there. Then again, she probably shouldn't have been. She was, after all, in his house.****

"Yeah," she groaned, running her tongue around her mysteriously fuzzy mouth. "What time is it?"****

"About ten," he replied casually, watching as a look of fear began to blast on to Mikasa's face. "Don't worry, Mikasa. It's the weekend."****

Ten o'Clock. It was ten o'Clock. How had she managed to sleep that late? These days, she usually didn't sleep much beyond six, seven if she was extremely lucky. What's more, she couldn't remember a time when she hadn't brushed and flossed her teeth before going to bed. Even as a five or six year old child, she'd always been meticulous in her bedtime routine. What was wrong with her?****

"I'll make you a cup of tea," Armin offered, his mouth still full of crunchy cereal. "Do you want some toast too? I've got marmite."****

"Yeah," Mikasa nodded, still a little confused as to how she'd ended up falling asleep on Armin's floor. The last thing that she remembered was Sasha and Jean's relatives coming to pick them up at midnight, then going into Armin's room to watch another film. Perhaps she'd fallen asleep during the film. No, no. That wasn't like her. She didn't fall asleep during films, no matter what time of day it was. Maybe she'd fallen asleep after the film. Then again, she didn't remember an awful lot about it. In addition, why she would sleep in Armin's house when her own warm, comfortable bed was next door was completely beyond her. There was so much that she was confused about this morning, so much that she didn't quite understand. Maybe Armin could enlighten her as to what had caused her to end up in this strange state.****

Ah. Actually, she didn't need an explanation. There was enough evidence in the room and enough memories in her mind for her to make a very good guess as to what might have happened.****

Leaning forward, Mikasa picked a small glass bottle off the top of the TV and twirled it around in her hands. There, there was the culprit. Who would have thought a few bottles of fairly weak beer could do this much damage? She could remember what happened now, what the effects of the beer had been on everyone. The echoes of last night's antics were visible all around the room, collecting in corners and hiding under blankets, memories playing out like video ghosts in her mind as her eyes darted around the now-empty room. ****

She could see Sasha jumping on top of the bed, singing along to the movie, showing off a few of her dance moves. Jean was in the corner, shouting inappropriate things and picking holes in everything, acting somewhat like an older and wiser version of Eren. On the beanbags, she could see herself calmly drinking and staring into space. Armin was beside her, laughing and giggling as Jean tried to work out how many square feet the room was by using himself as a ruler. She could smell the strawberry-scented shampoo that Sasha used, the buttery smell of the popcorn, the mysteriously chocolatey scent of Armin's beloved purple blanket. It was all there, all here, each memory joining up to create a picture of a surprisingly enjoyable evening.****

"Here," Armin said, suddenly appearing from somewhere behind her. Letting out a small yawn, Mikasa stretched out her hands to receive a steaming hot cup of tea. As the sweetened smell of chai spices filled her nostrils, she took a small sip from the tea, careful not to drink too much at once despite the dryness in her mouth.****

Stepping over the pile of beanbags and squashing down beside her, Armin placed a plate of marmite-covered toast on her lap. As always, he'd been careful to make sure that the butter was completely melted into the bread. As much as Armin's kindness could occasionally be overbearing, she did appreciate his attentiveness in moments like this.****

"What's on the news?" Armin asked, ruffling his hand through the bird's nest of his hair. "I heard something about the Titans earlier, I think."****

Taking a bite out of the toast and wiping crumbs from her mouth, Mikasa nodded. "They were in the Heath last night. Dunno why but...yeah. Looks like they're trying to get more territory or something."****

Armin sighed, a frown fixed on his face. "Seriously? More territory? They've already taken over the whole of Shinganshina. What could they possibly want more territory for?"****

Armin made a good point. Toast in mouth, Mikasa considered this for a moment. He was probably right. She couldn't see any reason why they'd be trying to expand right now, particularly with the beating they'd taken in the Rosa shootings four months ago. Maybe it was something a little simpler than that.****

"Maybe..." Mikasa began, half-distracted by some footage of a thick-eyebrowed blonde policeman, "...maybe they're just trying to show the police that they're still in business or something."****

Considering this, Armin leant forward and concentrated on the news report at hand. "Yeah. That sounds plausible, actually. I mean, it doesn't look like they had any real guns on them."****

As further footage began to roll, Mikasa could see that Armin was right. She'd seen enough guns before to know that the ones they carried in their hands weren't real. Although they were convincing enough to fool the many citizens who were evacuating the area, the shots they managed to land during the course of the film weren't damaging enough for them to have come from real bullets.****

"Do you think they'll be heading up here again soon?" Mikasa asked, unsure if she wanted to hear the answer.****

"Probably," Armin replied, "who knows, though. The police might be able to push them back before then."****

Mikasa gave a derisory snort. The police. That was a good joke. Turning to Armin, a rare wry look began to flash across her face. "The police?" she asked, eyebrows raised beneath her fringe. "You really think they'll do that?"****

"Have a little faith, Mikasa," he stated, nudging the girl slightly with the side of his shoulder. "They've probably got a whole load of people undercover within the gang. You know, just because Shinganshina's a poor area doesn't mean they're going to let it go to the Titans that easily."****

"Hmm..." Mikasa wondered, her opinion on the matter holding fast despite Armin's argument. From what she'd seen, the police only got involved if the gang operated outside the Shinganshina suburbs. Their involvement in the Rosa shootings had been an exception rather than the rule, as had their rush to get to the Maria Heath area following last night's activities. To her, their situation was obvious. The police just weren't interested in trying to get back Shinganshina. So long as the Titans stayed outside the old walls of the Rosa district, they would just leave them to it. In a recession like this where the police were more short-staffed and overworked than they had ever been, she really couldn't blame them. It was, after all, easier to hide within Rosa's walls and defend than to go out there and fight.****

"Eren would be going crazy right about now," Armin smiled, his eyes glazing over slightly as he lost himself in thought. "I reckon he'd be screaming at the TV, telling the Recon Corps to get on with it and do their goddamn job..."****

Mikasa nodded, her thoughts linking invisibly with her friend's as they descended into a shared dream. As usual, Armin was right on the money. Eren would definitely be yelling at the TV right now, screaming his head off about how he was going to join the Recon Corps as soon as he was old enough and boot the Titans' sorry asses from here to Haifa. Mikasa, of course, would remind him that he needed to go to university and get a degree before he did any of that. She'd hope that he'd grow out of the idea, hope that three years would stall his crazy ambition for a while and cool his head. Unfortunately, as Eren would subsequently remind her, the Recon Corps didn't have a university degree as a requirement for joining. Mikasa and Armin would sigh as they watched him get a second wind, looking to one another in realisation that whatever he did, they'd have to be right there behind him. If he joined the Recon Corps in an attempt to bring justice to the Titans, they'd have to join alongside him, acting as the human and shield behind his double-edged sword. It was how it had always been, how it always would have been had things continued as they should have done.****

As the foggy echoes of their dream faded, Mikasa and Armin gazed at one another. Although in some ways they were freer without Eren, there was a wistful look in both of their eyes that gave away their true feelings. Smiling sweetly, Armin placed his hand on top of Mikasa's head, ruffling the top of her messed-up hair.****

"It's lucky that he wasn't here last night," Armin stated. "I dread to think what he would have made of Jean and I being friends..."****

Mikasa looked sternly at her friend, her face draining of colour at the mere thought of the two of them meeting. Eren and Jean. Eren and Jean in a room together, shouting offensive things at the top of their lungs until they passed out from exhaustion. She could see it now, see them going full-tilt at one another, shouting about ridiculous things that made no sense to anyone but them. From the look on Armin's face, she could tell that he was having similar thoughts.****

"A-Anyway," Armin stuttered, attempting to clear his head of dreams that could no longer exist, "you were pretty funny last night!"****

"I was?" Mikasa enquired, her brows knitting together in a deep frown.****

"Yeah," Armin confirmed, bringing his thumb over to wipe a toast crumb off of Mikasa's chin. "I've never seen you like that before. You and Sasha were like a Boke and Tsukkomi routine all on your own...and what you said to Jean, too..."****

"A who and a what routine?" Mikasa interrupted, unsure if she liked the sound of what Armin was saying. It sounded as it if might be Japanese. With Armin, that was rarely a good sign. Last time she looked up some of the words Armin said in Japanese, she'd ended up on some kind of comic book porn website. As fascinating as it had been to see how gay men did the nasty, she wasn't entirely sure if she was comfortable with coming face-to-face with such things so unexpectedly.****

"Boke and Tsukkomi," he said slowly, exhaling deeply in exasperation. "You know, straight man and funny man."****

"Oh," Mikasa exclaimed, realising what Armin was trying to say. "So, what did I say to Jean?"****

"You kept putting him in his place every time he said something stupid," Armin snorted, remembering last night's events. "It was really funny...and then suddenly, out of nowhere, you said that if he kept flirting with you he was going to have to pay the consequences..."****

Mikasa wrinkled her nose. "I don't remember saying anything like that."****

"Well, you did!" Armin chuckled, leaning forward on his knees. "He shut up after that. Sasha didn't stop laughing for about three minutes..." he reminisced, "...oh man, I have so much material for Monday morning..."****

"Mmm..." Mikasa mumbled, chewing slowly on the last mouthful of her toast. Placing the plate neatly on the floor beside her, she threw the blanket off and dusted herself down. She really needed to get this greasy feeling off of her body, get her muscles moving and get herself ready. Although she didn't really feel like running at this time of day, she didn't want to completely destroy her morning routine. After all, there was still time before lunch to exercise, even if she didn't really feel as if her muscles were going to comply.****

"Are you leaving?" Armin asked. Eyes focused on the light streaming in through the deep purple curtain, Mikasa nodded.****

"I'll be back later to clean up," she offered, bursting through the door without another glance. "Thanks for the breakfast." ****

Mikasa felt a little awkward. Although this was far from the first time that she'd slept over at Armin's, it was the first time that she hadn't got up and left long before he had. As she exited his flat and fumbled in her pocket for the keys to her own, she mentally subtracted four hours from her day, sighing as she realised she'd have to go to the laundrette mid-run if she was going to get anything done today. It always surprised her how quickly things snapped back to her daily routine, how quickly one good moment in her life passed and returned to the mundane. One minute she was bathing in the warm, happy echoes of the night before and the next she was worrying about how she was going to run out of clothes if she didn't get to the laundrette on time. It was ridiculous, really, how quickly things returned to normal.****

As she tiptoed into her house, she passed a door on her left, a door that had been closed for almost four months. A poster of a black-clad band that Eren was a fan of still hung there, pinned to the chipboard with tiny blobs of sticky blu-tack. She rarely even looked there these days, rarely even gave so much as a glance towards the doorway that she had once spent so much of her life standing in. Although she knew full well that she ought to have cleared out the room long ago, she couldn't go in there just yet. Somehow, even though she knew that his things were just gathering dust uselessly in that room, she couldn't bring herself to open that door and start moving things around. It was as if in some way, that room being as it was kept a part of Eren in this world, a part of her brother that she wasn't quite ready to let go of yet. ****

Shaking her head, Mikasa forced herself to move on. It wouldn't do her any good dwelling on these things. She needed to get on with things, to force herself to keep moving. It wasn't as if she had the liberty of standing there, staring at Eren's door all day. She had homework to complete, Japanese to practise, laundry to do. She couldn't let herself get like this. Thanks to Armin's little party, she'd already wasted enough time. However, as always, moving on was much harder than standing still.****

As she looked from the pile of laundry at the foot of her bed to the neatly-folded gym clothes on her desk, Mikasa thought what might happen if she didn't follow her routine today. It wasn't as if she had run out of clothes, after all. Things could wait a day or two if they really had to. She could have a shower, clean herself up and spend all day at Armin's if she really wanted to. They could talk some more about last night, talk about what happened when Armin left the room to take out his contact lenses and how funny it was when Jean stuffed three potato wedges into Sasha's mouth to shut her up. They could do their homework together, sit at the kitchen table and have an argument as to whether or not the police were ever going to stop the Titans. They could...****

As a brick wall descended in front of her train of thought, Mikasa gave a heavy sigh. She wanted to spend more time with Armin. She really did. However, she realised that she was playing with fire. Although there was nothing wrong with their friendship and they got along perfectly fine as individuals, things just weren't quite right without Eren. Whenever things like this happened, whenever they spent more time together, they always ended up raking over the past like this. Both of them needed to leave that part of their lives behind now, needed to escape from the memories they so desperately clung on to. Going over to Armin's now would only dig up more of these memories, provoke more conversations about things that should have been buried months ago. It wasn't a good idea for either of them to see each other any more than was necessary to maintain a friendly relationship. As much as she wanted to rely on him for friendship and comfort, she knew that Armin wasn't really as strong as he thought he was. She had to leave him alone now, leave him to live his life with his new friends, leave him to move on as best she could.****

_I need to stop this_... she sighed, her feet sticking firmly to the floor in front of Eren's bedroom door.****_I need to stop playing these games and move on. Maybe I should transfer schools, ask to move house...but you'd only worry, wouldn't you? Whatever I do, however I try to get out of this, you'd worry if I was away from you._

As she stood, feet stuck to the floor in her triangle of impossibilities, Mikasa began to feel her phone vibrating in her pocket. Sliding her finger over the screen, she noticed that it was a message from Armin. Reluctantly, she opened the message, scanning her eyes quickly over its contents.****

_Don't worry about clearing up,_it read. _I'm coming over in ten minutes_. _Don't go out. I don't want you to be alone today._

Swallowing a lump in her throat, Mikasa's hands began to shake as if the phone was somehow vibrating them. Her instinct was to run, to run as far and as fast as she could, to run until she began to take off and soar in the sky above. However, she knew that even if she ran, he'd run after her. Sadly, as she'd learnt over the years that they'd been friends, there was no fooling Armin Arlert. If she tried to dodge him, he'd counter. If she tried to block, he'd slide under and knock her down with a sweeping kick. If she attacked, he'd catch her fist in his hand and use her momentum against her. He was just that sort of person. No matter how hard you tried to push him away, he'd come running back before you could even think of a suitable counterattack.****

In this situation, there was only one thing that she could do. She couldn't run, she couldn't hide, she couldn't even fight back. The only thing that she could do was accept his help and trust his better judgement. No matter how sure she was that both of their lives would improve if they no longer spoke, she'd have to live with Armin's decision, trapped in his smothering kindness until he finally let her get away. Ten minutes was enough to calm down, enough to get out of this ridiculous state and return to her normal self. Ten minutes under the shower, a thorough toothbrushing session and a change of clothes and she'd be fine.****

Mechanically, robotically, Mikasa stepped towards the bathroom. Whatever else she did today, she needed to get out of this mood. Closing her eyes for a moment, she held a picture of last night's memories in her mind. This would be her happy memory, the happy memory that got her through today. Focus, focus. The movie, the relaxed feeling that the alcohol gave her, the weight of Sasha's head on her shoulder as she slept - these three things made up a picture in her mind, a warm-toned picture full of smiling faces that she never thought she'd see again. That picture, that moment, would help her sail through even the stormiest waters in the sea of her memories. Even if she couldn't escape now, it didn't matter. For the moment, at least, she would be just fine.


	5. Maria

**You may notice that in this chapter, Connie speaks quite differently from the others and might use words you don't understand, particularly if you're not British. Don't worry. You don't have to know what everything means. South London slang is proper weird sometimes.**

"Mikasa! Mikasa! Hey, Mikasa!"

As Mikasa entered the pale-painted library, she heard a lone voice ricocheting over the top of the general chatter. Rising above the sea of near-indistinguishable faces, a pale-skinned hand waved in the air, flicking back and forth in an attempt to catch her attention. The voice alone, however, was quite enough to catch everyone's attention.

"Mikasa! Over here!" the voice called again, the hand flapping even more vigorously than before. Sighing, Mikasa made her way over to that hand, stepping through channels of people on her way to the only free seat in the entire room.

Silently, Mikasa descended into her seat beside a smiling Sasha, ignoring the giggles of the other students as she proceeded to unpack her things. Somehow, although she wasn't quite sure how, she'd got roped into a joint study session with Sasha after maths class. Although she was quite sure that a study session did actually involve some studying, she'd learnt that just about anything was possible when it came to this girl. As such, she had decided to prepare for any eventuality, from the kind of study session that she was used to all the way up to one that was little more than a glorified conversation.

"So, what were you up to this weekend?" Sasha asked, cocking her head to one side. "I mean, you know, after we left and stuff. Armin said to Jean that you were doing some kind of clean-up thing down the Heath on Sunday. How did that go?"

Woah. Too much. Too much for ten thirty on a Tuesday morning. How many questions was that? One? Two? Three? Bringing her brain back into focus, Mikasa ran through each of her statements one by one. Weekend. Clean-up. How did it go? Mikasa didn't really know. To be honest, she hadn't thought about it all that much. In fact, she could barely remember why they had decided to go in the first place. It was something to do with Eren, something to do with a conversation she'd had with Armin over kanji practice on Saturday afternoon. Was it because it was something that Eren would do? It was probably something like that.

"It was okay," she answered, deciding to give a noncommittal reply. "We're going again later, I think."

"Oh, really?" Sasha asked, leaning forward on her seat and twirling a pen in her fingers. "Hey, do you think that I could come along? I mean, I was thinking about going down to help out at the weekend after I heard what happened down there, but Jean...well, he has the car and I could have taken the bus but I..."

"I guess," Mikasa answered, the words jumping into her mouth before she even had the time to think about it properly. "I mean, if you're okay with going down to somewhere like the Heath..."

Smiling, Sasha cocked her head to one side, revealing a trio of various sizes of diamond studs on her left earlobe. "Of course I'm fine with that! Don't be silly, Mikasa! I mean, the Maria Titans are a bit...but yeah, I'm cool with it!"

The last line caught Mikasa somewhat by surprise. There was a strange rattle in Sasha's voice, one that she didn't quite expect to hear in this sort of situation. She noticed that the girl was twitching more than usual, too. Perhaps she'd had too much coffee this morning.

"So, um, yeah..." Sasha muttered, her face reddening slightly along the cheekbones. "You've...seen the Titans before, right? I mean, I remember you said you were at the shootings in Rosa..."

"Yeah, I've seen them," Mikasa said quickly, nodding her head and pointing to the blank page of her maths book. "We should really start work now."

"Oh! Oh, okay..." Sasha stated, flicking the pages of her notebook to reveal a few completed equations. "I've done the first five from the C1 homework...so, um, I think they're right..."

Turning her attention to the task at hand, Mikasa began to check over her equations. X equals five. Yeah, that was right. X is the square root of three. That was right too. X equals six...

"So, um..." Sasha said, flicking a pen rapidly back and forth between her index and middle fingers. "So...um...what are they like? The Titans, I mean."

"Hmm?" Mikasa asked, crossing out part of Sasha's answer and replacing it with her correction. "Well, they wear hoodies and masks so you can't see their faces. Other than that, they're just ordinary people, I guess. I don't really know..." she trailed, attempting to extract a profile from what little she could remember of the Titans she had encountered.

"Oh!" Sasha exclaimed, the twitching of her hands and legs slowing to a far less distracting pace. "Oh, well...that's...not so bad! Um, so...what do you do when they...you know, come in the area and..."

"Run," Mikasa answered, handing back the sheet of corrected problems to Sasha. "Problem three, you added where you should have subtracted. Problem five, you got all of the working right but the answer wrong."

"So...you don't fight them?" Sasha asked, squinting at her sheet of problems to see where Mikasa had corrected them.

"No," Mikasa muttered, glancing shiftily to the side. "Well, some people do. It's inadvisable."

"Oh!" Sasha exclaimed, craning her neck around and poking Mikasa in the arm. She prodded Mikasa's upper arm and started work on her lower arm, her eyes growing wider with every movement she made up and down her arm.

"What are you doing?" Mikasa growled, unsure if she liked her personal space being invaded like that. She felt like poking Sasha back, leaving little dents all up and down her arm so that she could see how it felt. However, as she'd learnt when play fighting with Eren, that sort of thing only encouraged them further. Besides, from what Mikasa could see, she would have a massive strength advantage over the soft, large-breasted Sasha. Sina girls weren't known for their strength, after all.

"You're really muscly..." the auburn-haired girl exclaimed, extending her hand around Mikasa's upper arm to feel how hard it was. "I bet if you fought a Titan, you'd win for sure! My muscles suck compared to yours. Here, feel!"

Without so much as a hint of consent, Sasha's hand was wrapped around Mikasa's wrist and her palm thrust against Sasha's strangely wiry upper arms.

"See?" said Sasha, her face screwed up in a mock-sulky pout. "Dancers' muscles. I don't have anywhere near the buildup you have."

As the palm of her hand was forcibly squashed around Sasha's long, thin arms, Mikasa began to feel a little embarrassed. She was close, too close to the girl for her liking. Was Sasha always this physically forward with people? They'd barely known one another a week and already she was touching her, running her hand up and down her arm, her little finger brushing lightly against her ribs. She'd never really been this physically close to a girl before. Was it normal for friends to be this close to one another? No, no. Hold that thought. They weren't friends. They'd only known each other for a week. You couldn't be friends with someone after just a week, could you?

As Sasha let Mikasa's wrist fall limply on to the table, the girl attempted to regain her previous level of concentration. She began working on the maths homework, quickly filling in the answers to questions she hadn't had the time to look over this weekend. Formula, input, answer. It was for this reason and this reason alone that maths was Mikasa's favourite subject. With enough practise, it was possible to answer any type of question that you might receive. There was always a right answer - it was simply a process of churning out the appropriate method and using your logic to get you there.

"That's wrong," Sasha interrupted, crossing out one of Mikasa's hazily thought-out workings. "This one's a special case."

Blinking, Mikasa stared at the seventh question on her sheet. A special case. Ah, of course. If it was a special case, then the usual method wouldn't work. Circling her pen in her hand, Mikasa turned towards the auburn-haired girl.

"How do you solve it, then?" Mikasa enquired, somewhat surprised that Sasha had a solution for a non-standard problem like this one.

"Um...well, I don't really know but I'm guessing..." she mumbled, tucking a stray length of hair behind her ears. Sliding her sheet of paper up to meet Mikasa's and shuffling her chair a little closer, Sasha began to scribble out a series of seemingly unrelated workings around the edges of the sheet. Raising her eyebrows, Mikasa leant over the sheet, attempting to follow the continuous stream of consciousness that was manifesting in her classmate's mind. It was a strange set of workings, a mix of actual maths and words that darted from one side of the paper to the other, the route trailed by large arrows. In fact, it was such an odd method that Mikasa wondered how on Earth Sasha managed to understand the normal way of doing things.

"Got it!" Sasha smiled, stealing Mikasa's notebook and crossing out several sections of her problem. She then began to write in corrections, translating it from her own strange language to a format that Mikasa would be more familiar with. By the end of it, she was so astonished that her mouth was actually hanging open.

"How did you...?" Mikasa asked, her voice so low that it was almost inaudible above the clatter of library traffic.

"Magic, mostly," Sasha replied, twirling her pen in the air. For a moment, Mikasa simply stared at the girl, unsure if she really meant what she said. Magic. Was Sasha trying to make some sort of joke? Actually, if that was supposed to be a joke, that wasn't a bad one. It wasn't really enough to make her laugh but nonetheless, it was a fairly decent attempt at humour.

With an expressionless face, Mikasa nodded her head, acknowledging her joke. "That explains the mysterious runes, then," she stated, pointing at a particularly hard-to-read set of letters on the left-hand side of the page.

Sasha let out a small giggle, shaking her head. "It was supposed to be English..." she laughed, her messy ponytail bobbing up and down with each little movement of her body. Her shoulders relaxing, Mikasa let herself slide into her seat. Although she didn't quite understand what was so funny about what she'd said, at least Sasha was enjoying herself.

As the rest of the morning ticked on, the two of them seemed to find some kind of balance in their studying that they were content with. Strangely, they seemed to work very well together. Whenever Mikasa breezed over an answer or churned out the wrong method by mistake, Sasha would be there to correct her. Whenever Sasha mysteriously decided that minus one was minus ten, Mikasa swooped in and erased the mistake before it could destroy the entire sum. It took longer this way but as they discovered, the two of them were able to learn quite a lot from one another. Minds were funny things like that - although both of them were very definitely scientifically minded, they were poles apart the way they made sense of the world.

As Mikasa compared their work, she likened the difference to that of a ballerina and a streetdancer. She was the ballerina, technical and precise, following set moves and steps while adding only a little of her own flair. Sasha was the streetdancer, the maverick, the wildcard who shot out unpredictable answers with varying degrees of brilliance. It reminded her of a movie she'd seen before when she was quite young. Step Up? Streetdance? It was probably one of those. From what she could remember, they all had the same plot line anyway.

"Sash!"

Jumping a little in surprise, the two girls turned to face the source of the noise. There, standing right behind them, was a grinning boy with the baldest head she'd ever seen on someone their age. Although they could see that his hair was beginning to grow back, he still had a very long way to go before it reached a stage where he could start getting away with the skinhead cut. As Mikasa stared at the boy, she noticed that he was very lucky. After all, there were few boys that could get away with a haircut as severe as that.

"How long have you been standing there?" Sasha enquired, a sweet, sleepy smile stretching across her face.

"Literally two seconds. Swear down, this place is jammed..." Connie sighed, scratching a tufty patch of hair on the left-hand side of his head. "You two studying, yeah?"

"Mmhm," Sasha nodded, pointing to their respective worksheets. "Maths."

"Ugh," Connie said, bending down to look at their respective sheets. "Allow that!"

"You're just jealous that you can't do a proper academic subject!" Sasha teased, poking her tongue out at the boy. "Mr. Media Studies!"

"Ooh, look at you! You a posh girl now, then?" Connie laughed, holding back Sasha's hands as the two of them descended into a sort of pushing playfight. Laughing, the two of them pushed one another back and forth, twisting their arms around like two wrestling children. Strangely, Mikasa felt more jealous of them than uncomfortable. It reminded her somewhat of days gone by, of days when she and Eren would fight in a similar manner. Although Eren was the one who would tease her and she the one who would guard herself against his attacks, the parallels between this situation and the ones she remembered were incredibly strong. Whether they were siblings or lovers, it was quite obvious that the two were close.

"Ow! Sash, quit it!" Connie chuckled, raising his arms high in the air as Sasha broke free of his grip, racing straight in with a well-planned tickle attack. As she watched the two of them laugh and joke together, Mikasa began to feel nostalgic. In the place of Sasha, she saw Eren, his skinny little arms extending to touch Mikasa's sides. He'd poke and prod at her ribs, moving his fingers back and forth with the aim of making her explode with laughter. However, long before he mounted his attack, Mikasa would see it coming and tense the muscles on the side of her body. Nine times out of ten, this would work and Eren would be forced to admit defeat. However, sometimes, even the best laid plans went completely to waste. She'd fall off her seat, her whole body shaking as she submitted to the unpleasant sensations jangling through her nerves. Whether she wanted to or not, she'd howl and shriek with laughter, her body jerking back and forth like a broken Marionette until Eren decided to stop. It was torture and she hated it, yet at the same time she somehow missed it.

Finishing her attack with Connie's collapse on to the floor below, Sasha leant back in her chair, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. Beaming so widely that her smile began to overflow infectiously into the atmosphere, she turned to Mikasa.

"Sorry about that," Sasha coughed, attempting to go back to her usual, slightly more serious self. "Connie, Mikasa. Mikasa, Connie."

"Aight?" Connie nodded, turning briefly to greet Mikasa before returning his attention to Sasha. "Sash, you got to stop doing that. Seriously. We too old for this."

"Whatevaaaah," Sasha drawled, dragging out the last syllable of the word to a ridiculous length. Roused from her nostalgic daydream, Mikasa blinked. Her accent, her whole way of speaking, changed from Sina to south of Shinganshina in a single word. Although people's accents often varied depending on who they were talking to, she was surprised that Sasha's could change so dramatically. Usually, the change was small and barely noticeable, even among those who had lived in many different parts of the country. This change, however, was so dramatic that it almost made Mikasa think that it wasn't Sasha speaking at all.

Rolling his eyes, Connie folded his arms in front of his hoodie-clad chest. "I'm serious, Sash. You was well out of order."

"Nah..." Sasha smiled, drumming her fingers on the desk. "You was out of order, sneaking up behind me like you was Slenderman or something! You probably scared the shit out of..."

Freezing mid-sentence, Sasha paused in an odd pose, one finger held firmly in the air. A scarlet-coloured blush began to form across the apples of her cheeks, making her look as if she'd spent the morning riding a horse in the fresh country air. It was only then that Mikasa began to understand, began to understand why her accent had changed so suddenly. Everything started to come together in her mind - the strange attitude, the wiry muscles, the obsession with condiments. It all added up to one thing, one thing that was so obvious that she couldn't believe she'd missed it for this long.

"Sasha," she began, cocking her head to one side, "you're not from Sina, are you?"

Connie began to laugh, refusing to stop even when he received a stinging slap to his upper arm. Sighing, Sasha nodded her head, twirling a loose bit of hair around her index finger.

"Oh my days..." Connie laughed, shaking his head. "Did you think Sash was from up there? Oh my days, that's mental...that's proper mental..."

"Shut up!" Sasha snapped, her usual crisp Sina accent making a return. "Mikasa, ignore Connie. _Some_ of us are trying to fit in with a more...cultured way of life."

"Sash, you a massive faker," Connie interjected, shaking his head. "Basically, she's from Dauper."

"Shut _up_..." Sasha hissed, folding her arms in front of her chest. She had a pleading sort of look to her face, as if she was desperate for Mikasa not to laugh at her. However, Mikasa had no intention of doing such a thing.

"That's out East somewhere, isn't it?" Mikasa asked, watching carefully as Sasha confirmed her assertion. "Isn't there a sustainable farming community out there?"

Sasha nodded sheepishly. "My family," she muttered.

"Our family," Connie corrected, poking the sad-looking girl in the upper arm. "Got like, fifty or a hundred of us out there or something."

"Oh!" Mikasa gasped, a strange sort of relief dissolving like a shockwave through her body. "So you two are related, then?"

Shrugging their shoulders, the two of them glanced briefly at one another. "Yeah."

"We're third cousins," Sasha explained, a small blush creeping across her face. "Or second. Or um, that removed thingy."

"Might be first by marriage," Connie stated, tapping his fingers across the desk. "Nah, actually, it's definitely second."

As the two cousins descended into a heated debate about how exactly they were related to one another, Mikasa's mind began to wander off on several tangents. Firstly, she wondered whether everyone in Dauper was related. Secondly, she tried to determine why on Earth nobody had drawn up a family tree for reference. The final tangent, however, was the one that caught her by surprise. If Sasha and Connie were related, were they also related to Jean? She remembered Armin mentioning that Jean and Sasha were sort-of cousins. It was complicated, too complicated for her to get her head around right now. Nevertheless, she was incredibly curious.

"Second cousins, once removed," was their final answer. Leaning back on her chair and gazing at the ceiling, Mikasa began to think through what that meant. Second cousins, once removed. Second cousins shared a...grandparent? No, no. A great-grandparent. Once removed meant different generations, so that meant one of them belonged to the previous generation and...no, this was too much to work out by herself. She was going to have to ask if she was going to get anywhere with this conversation.

"So, one of you is um...the grandkid of..." Mikasa faltered, watching as the two cousins smiled apologetically.

"My grandma is his aunt," Sasha explained, jerking her thumb in Connie's direction. "Our great-grandparents had a load of kids. I'm the granddaughter of their first child and he's the son of their sixth."

That was simple. Relieved, Mikasa began to draw out their family as a diagram in her mind. Six kids. That was an awful lot. Actually, come to think of it, it was probably more than six. She hadn't said last, after all. There were just so many questions in her mind right now, so many questions that she had to have answered. How many cousins did she have? Did they all live in Dauper? How did Jean come into all this? Were there any adopted children? What about divorces? She'd never heard of a family so large before.

"What about you?" Connie asked, abruptly rousing Mikasa from her daydreams. "What's your family like?"

Something began to tighten inside Mikasa's stomach. Like a spring being squashed to its limit, she felt tension coil up inside every single one of her muscles. In that second, all of those images she'd held of their happy family shattered, being replaced by dreams of her own. Like the smoke from a car exhaust, they spread in trails up and around her broken mind, waving around as if to torture her. She didn't know what to say. Her mouth was running dry, her tongue sticking unpleasantly to the roof of her mouth and choking her so that she could no longer speak even if she wanted to. She saw flashes of teal, of brown and black, of a searingly bright red that flashed in front of her eyes. Flames. So many flames, strangling and blinding her until everything was obscured by them. Hands, feet, the feeling of her small hands passing out of the grip of another-

"Mikasa, are you okay?"

Slipping from those dreams to the real world, Mikasa found herself almost nose to nose with Sasha. Flinching, she jerked the girl's hand off her shoulder and averted her eyes, unsure if she wanted to know what had happened while she'd been dreaming.

"I'm..." she answered, a single syllable escaping from her parched throat.

Just at that moment, a bell started to ring. Breathing a sigh of relief, Mikasa began to pack up her things, letting her autopilot guide her towards her next move. She felt uncomfortable, riled up, terrified. Everything seemed to be on fire around her, every tiny scratch of a pen on paper sounding like the match that set off those rising flames. Panic, terror, all of those things that she hadn't felt in years seemed to build up inside her like petrol behind a dam, ready to pour on those flames so that they burned more strongly than ever. She wanted to run, to sprint outside into the cold air and run until the icy wall she'd built up around her began to solidify once more. If Sasha wasn't here, staring at her as if she might run after her, she would have bolted long ago. She knew that look on her face. It was the look that Armin gave her when he knew that there was something wrong but didn't want to ask what it was. Thankfully, since she knew what the look meant, she also knew how to deal with it. She'd have to endure, to live through this melting feeling and wait until the inferno around her decided to put itself out. After all, she couldn't exactly give her a proper explanation as to what was going on. It was far too complicated, far too specific for anyone else to understand.

As they filed out towards their classroom, leaving a puzzled-looking Connie in their wake, Mikasa felt Sasha's hand lightly pat her shoulder.

"Don't worry," she whispered, a light little smile jumping across her face. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

Nodding her head curtly, Mikasa fixed her eyes on the floor. She knew all too well what the sentiments behind that phrase were. It was a phrase that Armin had said to her many times before, a phrase that definitely didn't mean what it said on the outside. However, it wasn't exactly a bad thing. It indicated that she was happy to hear her story, content to sit and listen while Mikasa let out all of the things that were bothering her at once over a sweet, milky cup of tea. Perhaps later, when she was sure that Sasha was a person who was going to stick around, she'd tell her everything. Today, however, was not that day.

"Thank you," Mikasa mumbled, the warmth of Sasha's hand on her shoulder distracting her briefly from the memories that burnt like rivers of lava inside her mind. Fire, fire, fire. It was always fire. Ever since then, it had always been fire.

A house, its door little more than a hell-like gateway of flaming fury. A scream, as the roof swayed and collapsed under the disintegrating planks. A bright red scarf, trailing out behind them as they were carried forcibly from the burning wreckage that was their home. Eren's formerly high-pitched voice, screaming out in vain for the people they'd been forced to leave behind. Her body, freezing with terror as she took his hand and led him to the station, eyes burning with the effort of trying not to cry. Armin, clutching to her chest and crying while Eren screamed about how he was going to destroy every last one of the bastards who had done this to them. The home, the voices of screaming children still freaking out about the fires. The wait, the three year wait until it would just be the three of them. The flat, the posters, Eren's voice and his hands. The flames, returning in a blaze of explosions and broken glass. Eren's hand, slipping away from hers as the gunshots began to ricochet across the landscape.

Those faces, obscured by the hoods and masks that would remind her of what she had lost for as long as she lived.


End file.
